truce meeting
by maddtropics
Summary: He couldn't believe he was doing this, making his way deep into Othersville in order to chaperone Horace and Richard's 'truce meeting', which by what he had heard consisted of some awkward conversation and a little bit of paper-shuffling.


January 5th, 1976

A cool, humid breeze stirred the thick jungle canopy overhead, shifting back and forth to reveal the full moon. Dark, wispy clouds darted across the sky, though plentiful, they never crossed the light of the moon. The sky was full of stars this far from the barracks, and the jungle shadowy and full of mystery. The soft coos and calls of the night-birds and wildlife fell deathly silent, a presence not of the jungle entering into the sacred space. The fauna scattered from the unfamiliar and unwelcome visitors, who had abandoned their sky-blue van on a road nearby, in favor of trekking through the jungle.

Gradually, several khaki jumpsuits emerged from the ferns. The first out was Horace, carrying a flashlight in his hand and a drawstring bag under his arm, in uniform despite it not being working hours. He cautiously made his way down a slope covered in dead leaves and small, wiry plants, holding out both arms to keep his balance.

After him, both James and Miles followed, a bit quieter, making their way a bit more skillfully down the slope and further into the dark wilds of the jungle. Both security members had their uniforms but brandished no weapons. James looked uneasily at the shifting shadows around him, wishing he had brought his own flashlight. From behind him, he heard Miles curse under his breath as a plant that looked suspiciously like poison ivy caught around his boot, and he struggled to free himself while standing on his free leg. The ivy came loose from his boot and broke from the ground, roots and all, with a loud snap.

"Shh! We need to be quiet." Said Horace from somewhere up ahead, waving the flashlight around haphazardly.

"We're not sneakin' up on them, are we?" Replied James, shoving his hands in his pockets, which were empty other than the keys for the van parked somewhere closer to civilization. Miles walked past him after Horace.

"We want to be respectful." Horace pointed out, to which Miles replied something inaudible.

James tromped after the group through the jungle in the near pitch-blackness of the night. He couldn't believe he was doing this, making his way deep into Othersville in order to chaperone Horace and Richard's 'truce meeting', which by what he had heard consisted of some awkward conversation and a little bit of paper-shuffling. Of course, accompanied by a campfire courtesy of Richard, who apparently can't live through an hour or so of conversation without a cup of hot joe.

After what felt like hours of late-night jungle exploration, the sound of hushed voices came from somewhere up ahead. The Dharma members, Horace in the lead, emerged from the treeline. In the middle of the jungle was a small hollow, walled with stone on all sides and open to the sky above without the obstruction of trees. Somewhere on the smooth stone floor a campfire was flickering, and the smell of coffee permeated the air. James craned his neck over Horace to see who exactly was down there. Thankfully, Widmore didn't seem to be in tow. Eloise was seated at one of five chairs around a white folding table, the surface of which was covered in neatly-arranged stacks of paper, each stack held down with a small rock so they wouldn't blow away. Richard, who had finished tending to the coffee pot on the fire, stood up and nodded in greeting to Horace. However, he tensed as two security members followed behind. Eloise looked up sharply, standing up as the three men made their way into the clearing.

"You didn't say you'd have bodyguards." She said, gaze flickering nervously to Richard, who opened his mouth to speak before being cut off.

"At ease, Hoss." James said, raising his hands defensively. "We're just stepping in for the people who couldn't be here tonight."

"Erm, yeah, sorry—" Horace began, "Radzinsky was supposed to come tonight, but he, uh, had an episode and Pierre is busy on the Hydra so I hope you don't mind—"

"An episode?" Echoed Eloise, still quite defensive. Richard approached James and Miles to shake hands and nod respectfully to each. He turned to raise a hand to the blonde, as if signaling for her to calm. She still bristled but sat back down in her seat. The rest of the team took their seats, with Miles having to sit in the extra fifth chair at the head of the table that was usually for holding bags of supplies or papers.

"Happy New Year, by the way!" Beamed Horace as he emptied the drawstring bag of its manila folder contents.

"Hm? Oh, Happy New Year to you too." Richard says, donning his reading glasses and taking out a clipboard with a fair amount of scribbled notes on it. Horace takes as much of a glimpse as he can at the topic list, shifting a bit nervously at its apparent length.

"I think a good place to start is the 'chemicals in the river' issue, Horace" Eloise said, a flash of her sixteen-year-old self's fiery passion in her eyes. She tapped a pencil on the table, awaiting a response.

"Oh! Yes, we—uh, I've apologized numerous times but still—terribly sorry about that whole thing. It was an accidental dump, I don't know if I've clarified before—"

"You have."

"Right, right, we've taken the appropriate measures to clean it up and make sure it won't happen again. Again, fully our fault, I deeply apologize." Horace concludes, flashing Eloise a nervous smile. She doesn't return it.

"A-Anyways, we had a great party on New Years!" He redirected quickly. "Everyone was very merry, always nice to have everyone come together for an event. Would have been better with fireworks, though."

"We've already been over the fireworks issue." Richard interjected tiredly, not even looking up. "I don't think I have to explain why it's not only a bad idea, but dangerous. We let you have your bonfire, didn't we?"

Again, Horace shifted nervously, nodding in response. "Of course, I didn't want to press the issue, just saying, heh." He replied clumsily. "But, other than that, it was great! We had a movie night, party games, recreational activities, it was great."

"Other than the girl who went missing." Miles said from the head of the table, causing Richard to look up suddenly. Horace sat up, quickly raising a hand.

"Oh no, no, she didn't really go missing—I mean she did, but we found her. Didn't go over the border or anything, just partied a little bit too hard."

"Hm." Was all Richard had to say in reply, relaxing slightly.

A sudden clink made all five attendees look up, and Horace looked down. "Oops, dropped my pen, sorry." He said, ducking under the table.

Richard's gaze slid up slowly to meet James', and they shared a look. Though James lacked a considerable amount of tact in Richard's eyes, he at the very least could hold a serious conversation without bumbling around hard subjects. Horace sits back up, pen in hand, almost hitting his head on the table as he did so.

"Yeah so, uh—Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to tell you, our meteorologists sighted a hurricane not too far off from here! Yeah, especially after the tropical storm a few weeks ago, pretty unlucky holiday season I suppose." He continued coolly, throwing a glance at the partially-cloudy sky. A somewhat chilly breeze blew over the clearing, nipping at the crackling fire nearby. "Thought I'd let you know! I mean, you probably knew that already, you can track weather or something can't you? Either way, very interesting, going to be a category three I believe, if it doesn't de-intensify by the time it hits the shore!" Horace babbled on, fidgeting absentmindedly with his pen.

"We figured as much, lucky we moved camp when he did." Replied Richard after a long sip of black coffee. "Too much flooding in the creeks and other nearby water sources, so we didn't want to take any chances. We got settled alright though."

"Though even if it wasn't flooding, I don't think it would have been wise to stay near chemical-filled water." Eloise pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Richard shot her a look, massaging his temples with one hand. Thankfully, she decided not to press the issue. He looked down at the clipboard and began to write meeting notes. James and Miles shared a glance, though they both looked over as Horace began swatting at a bug. Not a bug, a butterfly, hovering tauntingly out of reach. "Go on, 'git!" Horace said under his breath, a bit too mild-mannered to swat at and kill the thing. It fluttered its way out of reach and came to rest on the end of Richard's pen as he was writing, perching there contentedly for a few minutes before disappearing back into the shadowy jungle.

"Oh, yes, flooding must be terrible!" Horace mused, taking a glance at the small, laminated map of the island on the table. "We could always help with that kind of thing if you needed! Not that you do need it, I mean—"

Richard blinked. "I don't think we need help. How would you help with flooding, hypothetically?" He continued, deciding to humor him.

Horace sputtered a little, not exactly expecting that response. "Oh, I mean—Probably we could widen out the river with a little machinery, not too much, or help with a dam, provide shelter—" He paused, gauging Richard's reaction.

"Though that's, erm, amicable, I don't think your modification of the island's land would be very suitable." Responds the advisor, leaning his forehead into his palm and resting an elbow on the table.

"Right, right, just a suggestion." Horace nods, shuffling a bit in his seat. "Though, another thing I wanted to bring up was the potential for solar panels as a power source!"

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Solar panels? Where would those be?"

"Above-ground, of course. We could probably affix them to the top of the pylons and houses, or at the very least within the boundaries of the pylons."

"That's a reasonable suggestion. In my opinion, much better than risking lives on both sides by digging far underground of a dangerous and unreliable source of power." He mused. At that remark, everyone fell silent, especially Horace, who was stunned to say the least.

"Not to interrupt the good awkward silence we've got goin' here," started James, kicking one leg up to rest it over the other, "But I think we should move on to the food drop, seven days from now."

"Good addition," Richard said, "We'll make our plans to stay away from the area, then."

"G-Good, glad that's settled." Horace said, swallowing awkwardly. "Oh, and we're having a sub of emergency materials coming in tomorrow night."

"That's news to me, H." James said, sitting up. He glanced to Miles, who only shrugged in response. Richard looked from the security members to Horace, confused.

"Emergency materials?..." He echoed, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, not weaponry emergency or anything," clarified Horace, "Just some materials we needed supply of. Yarn, cloth, that kinda thing." He waved his hand dismissively.

"Yarn? For a Christmas sweater emergency, I assume." Piped up Miles, joining everyone else at the table in staring expectantly at Horace.

The mathematician rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled sheepishly, quickly throwing James a glance that said something along the lines of 'let's work this out later.' "Obviously more than that, just general materials."

Richard, sensing the general tension at the table, sighed and wrote on his clipboard once more. "Duly noted."

"Err—Enough from my side, I assume you all have been doing well?"

"Hm? Oh, we've been fine. Other than the move and the chemicals in the water issue we've been doing good, thriving. I've been very busy."

"That's good! I think I've asked this before but, what exactly do you do over there? You're always quite busy."

"You mean what I do specifically?"

"Yeah! I know you said you're an advisor but—"

"He does everything, basically." Eloise says, quite proudly. Richard flashes her a small smile.

"Well, not everything. A little bit of everything I guess you could say. Paperwork, meetings, making sure everything is running smoothly, arranging patrols…" Richard says, seemingly tired just mentioning all of it.

"No wonder you drink so much coffee, are you sure you aren't the leader?" Horace chuckles playfully.

Richard doesn't match his enthusiasm. "No, no, I don't lead, I just make sure everything's going okay." He clarifies, then turns to nod to Eloise. "She does the leading, I don't think I could do all that she does." Eloise smiles, shaking her head humbly.

Horace blinks. "Oh, wait, you're the leader?" He waits for a bit as his remark is met with silence, then quickly adds, "Sorry, I'm a bit confused, I thought Charles—"

"I'm the leader," Eloise confirms., her gaze flashing fiery once more as she turns to glare at Horace. "He's just a co-leader."

There was silence for a moment, Horace nodding thoughtfully. "Oh, sorry, I just kinda—I mean since you're, uh—" He struggled to backtrack quickly.

"Since I'm a woman?" Eloise snaps accusatorily, waiting smugly for a reaction. Richard almost chokes on his coffee, turning to give her a rebuking glance.

"Oh no! Not that at all! Not that in the slightest! I just meant—" Horace dropped his head, flushing embarrassedly.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way, Ellie." Richard says calmly. She snorts and crosses her arms.

Miles, who had been observing all this go down from the head of the table, glanced from Ellie to Richard. He wanted to make a remark but decided against it. Though, this was the only time he'd ever heard anyone call Eloise 'Ellie', which he noted.

After what felt like the longest awkward silence of the night, Richard took a paper off of his clipboard and replaced it with another, stacking up several of the papers on the table and tucking them away to clear away space. "Oh, and it's not a big issue, I just wanted to mention. I'm not quite sure if this is another 'escaped experiment', but are any of you missing a large yellow dog?"

James is the first to sit straight up. "A large yellow dog? You mean like a yellow lab, right?" He answers. Horace leans forward slightly.

"Are you missing a dog, James?" Asks Richard, meeting his eyes.

James pauses, then shakes his head. "No," he corrects gruffly, "Just clarifyin'."

"Right, anyways. He hasn't caused any trouble, not even wandering toward camp, I just saw him around and since he had a collar, I thought he was an escaped pet. I couldn't get close enough to read the nametag, though."

"Is he alright? I mean, a dog wandering around in the jungle..." James asks, eyeing Richard.

"Looked a bit beat up, but not deathly injured or ill or anything. As healthy as anything living in a jungle of larger predators could be."

James sighed with silent relief, shifting in his chair.

"Anything else?" Horace prodded, throwing a glance at the now very cloudy sky.

"Well, I think I've mentioned our encounters with the very large deer before. We shot one down, it was foaming at the mouth, so we presumed it rabid. We burned the body though, and haven't seen any others since—"

"Oh, you burned it? I mean, I thought you ate deer, right?"

Richard gave him a long, hard stare before replying. "As someone who's lived in the jungle for a very long time, I didn't think bringing a potentially rabid deer back to a camp containing small children was ideal, though I'll keep that in mind."

Before Horace could reply, a sudden hissing and sputtering of static and mangled, glitchy voices erupted from somewhere under the table. Horace jumped, then fumbled to unhook his walkie from his jumpsuit. The unrecognizable static turned into a voice, speaking quite clearly into the walkie.

"Domestic violence call, house twenty!" It blared, awful loud in the relative silence of the jungle.

Richard leaned forward and raised an eyebrow, watching Horace fumble shakily in an attempt to turn it off. He chuckled sheepishly as he did so, trying to make as less of a scene as possible.

"Domestic violence call?" Richard asked, as the walkie repeated the call over and over again.

"Oh, yeah, n-no worries—See, erm, it's just a code, nothing to worry—"

"I know what domestic violence is, Horace." Richard replied coolly. "It sounds urgent. I didn't have anything more to report, so if you need to attend to—"

"No! No don't worry, it's fine I should have turned it off beforehand." He says, switching off the blaring walkie. He shoves it back into his pocket, apologizing profusely.

Richard seems genuinely concerned, however, and not about to let the matter go. "We can resume another time, if you really wish. I'm not about to get in the way of you attending to such a call."

"Don't worry, really, it's fine! Just, uh, we have some security back home who will take care of it."

Richard sighed, putting up a hand defensively. "Okay then, if you're sure it's taken care of, I'll continue."

Another awkward silence settled over the table, everyone exchanging nervous glances with everyone. The only sounds were the soft wind and the chirping of the crickets, and the crackling of the dying fire. Before Richard could continue, another sudden loud burst of static rang out through the clearing. Everyone turned to its source, this time it was James' walkie. He groaned and picked it up.

"Domestic violence call, house twenty!" Shouted a voice, this time one James recognized, Phil.

He turned his back to the table and hissed into the receiver. "Damnit Phil! I'm doin' somethin' important right now, didn't I tell you I was out? Get Jerry or someone else to attend to it, we're not even close to the barracks right now."

Phil's response was barely audible over the sound of static from the bad reception. "If someone dies before you come back, LaFleur, just know it isn't my fault!" He snapped, just before James shut off the walkie and shoved it back on his belt.

He turned back to the table to find all sets of eyes, except for Horace's, staring at him. "Sorry folks, that was just Phil, he's a bit over-dramatic."

"Of course, no worries." Richard responds, exchanging a very long glance with Eloise.

"Yeah, this kinda thing happens all the time," Horace starts casually, in an attempt to quell any worries.

"You have a lot of domestic violence calls?" Asks Eloise, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh no! Not that I just mean—y'know, just Phil being over-dramatic, probably nothing to worry about," He chuckles, nervously waving off the incident.

Again, another silence. This time, it's Richard who breaks it.

"If that's all, for you, I'd say the meeting's pretty much over. In conclusion, please don't let any more 'experiments' wander into our territory. Though it isn't in the truce document, if any more incidents involving aggressive animals running loose from your lab occur, I'm going to have to involve your superiors."

"Understood." Replies Horace, standing and collecting his papers. He goes to Richard and attempts to pat him amicably on the back, though Richard simply stares at him in a mix of confusion and tiredness, until they settle for a stiff handshake. Eloise is offered a handshake as well, but she simply glances at Horace's hand before turning and collecting her stuff.

"Don't worry about the cleanup," Richard nods to the two security members, "We'll take care of that. It's getting late, you all should be getting back now."

"Of course," replies James, accepting his second handshake of the night. As they shake hands, Richard eyes his jumpsuit.

"Congratulations on head of security." Says Richard, reading the title on his suit.

"Thanks." James replies gruffly.

After a moment of shuffling and attempting to get everything together, Horace gathered his group and nodded his goodbyes, before ascending up into the treeline. As soon as they were out of sight of Richard, Miles padded up closer to James.

"I'd say that went well." He says curtly, turning to Horace. "Is it always that awkward?"

"Probably the best meeting they've had in a while, considering they usually bring Stuart along with them." James replies for him, as Horace was apparently not answering.

They made their way in silence through the dark jungle, until finally breaking out onto the treeline, making their way back into the van and driving off, leaving behind the jungle and its inhabitants.


End file.
